


I've Been Dreaming

by redmaynes



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, one-sided ish, pynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmaynes/pseuds/redmaynes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan Lynch has been dreaming more, with schemes on his mind that he can't manifest into reality. </p><p>At least he tells himself he can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Been Dreaming

Ronan Lynch has been dreaming more, with schemes on his mind that he can't manifest into reality.

  
At least he tells himself he can't.

Because when Ronan gasps awake at three in the morning, head swimming, heat coursing through his veins and his sticky release in his boxers, the last thing that he wants to bring back with him is the person that wrenched the agonized moans from his lips and the orgasm that made his eyes roll back in pleasure, in the dream that crept up on him in the middle of the night.

"Fucking Parrish," he slurs, trying to catch his breath and calm down his pulse rate, which is probably in the triple digits.

Ronan can't remember the last time he's had a... nocturnal emission. He was probably twelve, entering puberty; all awkward limbs and pasty skin that girls now romanticize as a "deathly pallor".

Death is as romantic as hangovers. Or speeding tickets.

Speaking of Ronan's favorite ways to get into trouble--

Adam Parrish is a target that never moves, yet Ronan never stops chasing him. Sometimes Ronan can't help but be a bit nasty to him, saying something carelessly cruel about his poverty, his shitty parents, his pig-headed stubbornness about about paying for everything he knows he can't afford (lest Parrish wants to live off of ramen for a week or so)... and every once in a while, Ronan, with a perfectly flawless, albeit exaggerated rendition of Parrish's Henrietta accent, would get him flushed and clench-jawed, and he would almost snap, say something he'd regret.

But Parrish would compose himself, schooling his fine features into something a blank canvas would envy.

And Ronan would be lost. Then he would tell himself that he doesn't feel guilty.

As he lay in bed now, heart pumping languid blood through his sated body, he tells himself the same thing.

_I don't feel fucking guilty._

He shifts around, grimacing when his cooled semen smears messily on his skin, sticking onto his boxers. When Ronan was twelve, he hated this sensation. Still does. The only difference between then and now is that twelve-year-old Ronan would flush with shame, strip himself of his soiled undergarments and scrub them under the sink as best as he could, struggling to keep his sleep-addled, bleary eyes open.

Then he'd stand under the running shower until his flushed skin returned to his normal pale, until the guilt of indulging in his subconscious desires ebbed away and all he was left with was a nebulous midnight memory waiting to be evoked by another one of Ronan's slumbering fantasies.

But now Ronan just slides off his sleepwear --same as any other night, silk Armani boxer shorts-- and clean himself up, throwing them in the general direction of his laundry basket. The dark slippery material lands on the edge, but then slips and pools slickly on the floor, a fabricated oil spill.

_Tsk-tsk._

He glances at Chainsaw's cage, and there she is, talons crisply clicking against the metal rung of her cage; her head is tilted, a habit she learned from her master, eyeing Ronan with interest.

At least to him it looks like she's interested. Moonlight is only a good light to share with a partner, tangled in damp sheets and whispered sweet nothings, not for analyzing avian species.

Not that Ronan has had any experience with the former.

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" He feels around his underwear drawer, when he realizes there is no point; he closes his hand around the familiar feeling fabric and pulls out a pair of boxers identical to the ones he was wearing a minute ago.

Chainsaw fluffs up her feathers, staring at him reproachfully -- is she reproachful? " _Kerah_."

"Go to sleep. You're not the one who had a gay wet dream."

She looks at him for a few more seconds, then turns away and starts grooming herself. Ronan starts back toward his bed, flopping onto it and easing back under his blanket.

Once when they were at Blue's house for pecan pie, Maura commented on the remembrance of dreams. Gansey had asked, the rest of them curious to listen.

  
"Wait a minute or two for your thoughts to settle and then you can catch up to your dreams and find out what your subconscious has been cooking up," she'd said, "if you immediately run after them you'll never capture their essence, much less what they were saying. Dreams are elusive. You gotta know how to stalk your prey."

Ronan has no time to settle, so he strains to remember, and hunts for remnants of what he dreamt, chasing after stray ends, all to no avail.

"Fuck," he breathes out, closing his eyes, only vaguely remembering Parrish. Adam fucking Parrish just an inch away from his face, deep-set eyes staring into his icy gaze, the gaze that melted when Parrish leans in to brush his lips against his, murmuring Ronan's name.

It led to more kisses, love bites, fumbling of hands to undo buttons and zippers, discarding of T-shirts and the hastily peeling-off of constricting jeans and underwear, until they were skin-to-skin and mouth-to-mouth, anchors holding each other grounded in the sea of uncertain emotions and unclear dreams.

And Ronan can remember no more, so he mouths a curse word, small and perfect as he exhales vulgarity, and turns his head into his arm, far beyond sleep yet too tired to be awake.

He stays like that until tendrils of sun creep into his room and he has to get up and face the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic, and it came to me as I was rereading The Dream Thieves in the middle of the night. Hope you enjoyed it. Comments are always welcome!


End file.
